


It's The Second Impression That Makes All The Difference

by emziewrites



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Airports, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-10-10 16:47:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17429705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emziewrites/pseuds/emziewrites
Summary: In which Keith is bored out of his mind swiping through a dating app while waiting for his delayed flight and ends up swiping no to the -exceptionally handsome in person - man sitting beside him.And then they proceed to fall in love.





	It's The Second Impression That Makes All The Difference

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this is the first Voltron fic I've finished! I haven't actually written and posted anything in a long while now so I'm nervous but I hope you like it! Please excuse any mistakes I may have made, I'm honestly just posting this before I lose my nerve O<-<
> 
> I was inspired by this [tweet](https://twitter.com/WHlTELION/status/1080967780458000385) which made me laugh harder than it should have, but hey, it spawned this ridiculously corny but CUTE fic.

Keith is beginning to learn from experience that airports have a huge hatred towards him. If he’s not being placed on a window seat, he’s within five seats of a screaming baby, if it’s not a delayed flight then it’s a cancelled one. Sometimes he wonders why he bothers taking a plane when riding his bike is not only more affordable but much more comfortable – but his parents always point out the obvious: they live a whole country away and it would take days for him to arrive rather than one which defeats the purpose of a quick visit whenever Keith is able to get time off work.

Which is often, weirdly enough. His position in the engineering company isn’t the most important in the grand scheme of things but he supposes a person has to work a certain amount of hours to earn the amount of holidays he’s acquired. Of course he’d never question it, but it does make him wonder if his mother had gotten his supervisors number or something - she had a strange knack for persuading a person to do whatever she wanted.

Regardless of any of that, Keith is once again scorned by the airline he relied on for it’s cheap as hell airfares despite their unreliability in general. He supposes his airport experiences would improve if he chose another airline but the prices are just too good to refuse and he refuses to admit his own stupidity if he’s being honest.

It’s another pain in the ass kind of season this time as well. It’s the holiday season still and even though most of the country is buried in snow – including the dreary city he’d chosen to be home – Keith is dreaming of the desert sand that is marginally warmer, the environment he’d been raised in. He misses it constantly, but moving all the way back home is just not practical yet. Sometime soon, he will go back for good.

For now, he waits impatiently, uncomfortably reclined in a straight backed chair -  that as far as he is concerned doesn’t even pass for being called a chair – his foot tapping in midair, knee bent over the other, phone in one hand that rests upon his raised thigh, one earphone pressed firmly in his left ear and playing music loud enough to hear it while also keeping an ear out for any announcements regarding his flight. His thumb idly swipes through a dating app. Or perhaps it’s more like a hook up app but all the advertisements and enticing information about the app play it off as the kind of app where you find your true love, your soul mate, and live happily ever after. Keith already knows it’s not because he’s met with a fair few of the men who’ve messaged him. Each one had been blow or hand job that left him feeling unsatisfied and downright gross all over. Sure it was fun to get off once in a while but he wasn’t a flight-risk of a twenty-one year old anymore. He’s nearing thirty for fuck’s sake, he wants more than a swift rendezvous with some random guy.

He sighs, deep and frustrated, not caring if anyone looks at him or thinks him rude. For the first hour of his four hour flight delay, Keith has been swiping no on each one, heart not even in it as he glances at each image and then barely reads the blurb they’ve written about themselves before he decides they’re not worth it. Way too many of them are very clearly flexing and doing a terrible job of it. Flaunting their job or annual income like it’ll draw in a potential bed mate. Or back-seat-of-the-car mate. Or a back-row-at-the-cinema mate.

Keith’s had way too many to even count the ridiculous places he’s pretended to enjoy the rush of almost getting caught. He’s grown to hate it. He’s far more picky now.

He swipes passed a guy who’s name – James Griffin – sounds like the type of name used for a fictional television series where the terrible lead actor is a detective or police officer of some kind, and lands on someone who actually makes him pause for a moment, thumb hovering over the screen of his phone as his gaze rakes over the image. It’s not the best quality image out there, almost certainly taken by someone who doesn’t know how to take a photo – or a rushed one used to make a fake account for their friend as a prank as the man is shirtless and flexing his arm muscles. While the image is bad to be sure, Keith can still make out that the man is totally, one hundred percent is type. Muscular, jaw square and strong, his hair is a silvery shade – definitely dyed – but Keith likes it, it suits the naturally tanned skin and style of barely styled forelock and barely maintained buzz cut.

The blurb below said image is just as damning and Keith reads it carefully just because he’s so amused at what he’s found.

 _‘Shiro’_ , reads the name in bold letters, _’32, male seeking a male’_ , it continues and Keith scrolls a little so the main section of the blurb fills his screen. _‘My parents are Japanese but I was born here in America. I graduated high school with top marks and entered my dream degree in Astrophysics with the hopes of being an astronaut someday. While I graduated college at the top of my class that dream never came but now I teach the subject I studied while working for NASA part time analysing data. I like animals, long walks on the beach and stargazing.’_

Keith wants to laugh. He really does. Everything about the blurb is both too good to be true and abundant with ridiculousness. It’s obvious that whoever had written that blurb knew the best way to get the poor man they’d pranked into awkward conversations with nerds who would actually know about Astrophysics and space and all that stuff.

He screenshots the image and then sets scroll capture to get the blurb included and then promptly swipes no.

“Whoa… guess that’s a hard pass on that guy, huh?”

The voice isn’t at all familiar so at first Keith isn’t sure if the question is direction at him, but after a quick glance around he realises that there is actually someone seated right next to him. So far into his own world, Keith isn’t so surprised that he hadn’t noticed the company. What does send his mind reeling however, is the realisation that the man who is smiling sheepishly into his own hand, is in fact the guy he’d just swiped no to.

This Shiro guy, had been there all that time.

Keith stares for a long few seconds just gaping like a fish out of water, stunned beyond belief. “Y-You’ve gotta be kidding me…” he mutters, placing both feet on the floor to lean over his lap, face flushing bright red as he presses it against his fists.

“I honestly wish I was,” Shiro replies, sounding beyond amused by the current situation. At least the guy can take a hit to the ego with dignity. “You cannot make this kind of stuff up.”

Laughing, Keith sits straight again, barely looking in Shiro’s direction because this is the most embarrassing non-sexual situation he has been in since high school and he’s not sure if he can take looking this man in the eyes right now.

Though, he’s gotta say, even from the brief glance he’d taken Keith can already confirm that the picture on the app did not do Shiro justice. He’s still muscular and square jawed but he pulls off a pale coloured button up shirt exceptionally well, especially when paired with dark washed jeans. He is handsome, that’s clear without a close look at his face.

“I have a perfectly good explanation for swiping no and I hope you aren’t offended by it,” Keith says, daring another glance in Shiro’s direction.

And he regrets it immediately. Shiro’s face is a hundred percent better looking than that horrible photo. He’s got a scar across the bridge of his straight nose, a defining feature he’s not sure Shiro likes or not, his eyes are beautifully slanted, a tribute to his nationality with eyelashes Keith would die for – and he can tell at this distance that no mascara is required. The colour of his eyes too, a warm grey, a shade more welcoming that Keith would have assumed. His smile too, still amused as Shiro crosses his legs, resting his forearm over the knee, angling his body towards Keith with an expectant glint in his expression that makes Keith pause for a moment, long enough that he has to clear his throat to save face.

“I have to know if you made that blurb yourself or if that was written for you because it reads like the description for a Fifty Shades of Grey wannabe character.” Keith admits, throwing all caution to the wind because it’s not like Shiro would be expecting anything from him. He did just swipe no after all. Shiro blinks at him, stunned expression holding well though Keith can see the line of his fine pink lips twitching with the urge to laugh – or at least smile. “And that picture,” Keith continues, “was that really the best you had on hand?”

“Yeah okay that was awful.” Shiro concedes, hand rising to his mouth to hide his smile and Keith can’t help but notice the fingers… aren’t flesh and bone.

A prosthetic, an incredibly advanced one at that. It was definitely  _not_  in the photo – not that it’s a big deal, but the bad quality and the age of the image points to a reason why Shiro may have chosen it in the first place. Keith tilts his head, more in interest than anything else as he twists a little, angling to Shiro the same way he angled to him. “So, tell me the truth, did you write your own description or was that a cruel prank?”

Shiro grins unapologetically, though he scratches the back of his neck in a sheepish gesture. “Uuuh... I had help but honestly I didn’t know how to make it any better so I just decided to post it and let my attempt fail,” he admits. “Case in point.”

He’s not sure why he finds Shiro so endearing at this moment. He’d just swiped no on the poor man and yet he’s smiling and accepting his failures with grace and a sincere sense of humour. He should have included that trait in the blurb for brownie points. “I’d give you some pointers but I feel like that might be overstepping my boundaries,” Keith says, smiling broadly, enjoying this banter far more than he should. 

His comment brings another laugh from Shiro and Keith tries not to laugh with him. “Believe it or not I’d appreciate the assistance. Why don’t I buy you a coffee or something?” He offers, his cheeks dusted a little with pink. “I-if you wanted to...” Shiro’s sentence trails off as he glances away, bottom lip tucking in as if he’s wondering if he should have bit his tongue on the offer. 

At first, Keith is hesitant though he doesn’t let it show on his face. No need to wound Shiro’s self-esteem more than once in ten minutes. But he decides after only a few short moments that what the heck, he’s bored and stuck in the stuffy confines of this airport for another two hours. Why not do something that will actually help pass the time?

“Well, seeing as you’re paying...” Keith replies, letting his own sentence trail off, his answer plain and obvious with his tone alone and Shiro catches on immediately, standing straight away, his carry on in hand, a light jacket Keith hadn't noticed before slung over the same arm. His flesh one. Keith follows suit, slinging his only luggage – a barely small enough to pass as carry-on backpack – over his shoulder as he stands. 

They make their way out of the maze of seats, all lined up in a strange fashion to accommodate more options for those in the same boat as Keith is. It’s then he wonders if maybe Shiro is stuck on a delayed flight as well. Perhaps the same flight as his own. “You delayed too, or?” He asks as they make it to the long, open corridor that leads through all the gates the small, domestic airport has to offer. Some flights are boarding so there are long lines as commuters herd like sheep onto their flight, other seating spots are completely desolate as no flights are arranged for that gate any time soon. The area they’d been in had been between two gates so Keith could assume Shiro was waiting for the gate next to his to open or maybe, just maybe, he's headed in the same direction. 

He hates how that makes his heart give a little leap of excitement. 

“Yeah. Headed for L.A. and the plane’s had some technical difficulties so now I’m waiting for another flight - leaves me stuck here for a good few hours but I gotta get there by tonight so... No choice,” Shiro explains, avoiding someone walking the opposite direction. 

 

“What’s in L.A.?” Keith finds himself asking. 

“There’s a seminar I’m a guest at, or, well, several. I have three of the same seminar scheduled at different times so everyone can have a chance at attending,” Shiro explains, slightly awkward at first but getting his message across just fine. “It’s a lot of talking and such so I’d prefer to rest properly tonight.”

Keith is nodding as he speaks. “That's fair enough. Can you tell me what the seminar is about or is it super-secret?" he teases.

Shiro offers a laugh, stopping to let Keith through first as a large group come upon them and block most of the path, meaning they have to pass through single-file. “In a word? It’s about space.”

“Oh god.” Keith scoffs. “Don’t tell me you’re actually an Astrophysics professor?”

“Believe me when I say that everything I wrote on that app is totally true,” Shiro tells him, grinning with great amusement, entertained by Keith’s disbelief, especially when he sees the way Keith’s lips part, speechless. “Yes, I graduated as a Astrophysics major with high honours and now I teach it. Satisfied?” While the question itself would usually be laced with attitude, Shiro is still filled with mirth as he watches Keith shake his head. “I swear, I’m not lying, I can show you my credentials if it makes you feel better.”

Keith waves a hand, beginning to laugh quietly now, unable to help himself as Shiro continues to tease him. “So you’re actually the smartest person I’ve ever met, apparently,” Keith comments, finally meeting Shiro’s eyes, smile still firmly in place. “Sorry I didn’t believe your description.”

With a shrug, Shiro turns a corner, leading towards the food court which will be full to the brim in a good hour or so given that is when lunch will be sought for. It also has the only Starbucks in the departures terminal of the airport so of course that’s where they’d be headed. “Eh, my description on that silly app is horribly written so I don’t blame you for that.” Shiro says. “The word limit is my issue, I can’t elaborate in the way I want to so I end up sounding like I’m catfishing or something.”

“Can’t say the choice of image helps you a lot.” Keith adds, taking in the rich aroma of coffee as they enter the line for Starbucks.

Shiro sighs, a deep, frustrated one, one that Keith can already tell isn’t being directed at him, but internally. “Yes, you’re right. But… it was the only one where I don’t look like some old man with a prosthetic.”

“Why dye your hair silver then?” Keith asks, avoiding the whole prosthetic thing altogether.

“I didn’t.” Shiro explains. “When I had my…” he gestures vaguely to his prosthetic, “I lost all my hair and when it grew back it was all silver. This is au naturel,” he says, almost sounding proud of the fact, though Keith can hear the bitter, underlying tone. “What do you want?” He suddenly asks.

It’s only at that moment that Keith realises that they’ve reached the counter and the poor girl – who looks like she needs a few shots of coffee herself – is forcing the brightest smile on her face, waiting for them to tell her what they want so she can input the order and get on to the next waiting customer.

“Oh, uuh, I’ll just have a coffee, venti.” Keith says.

Shiro orders an Iced Coffee, claiming hot coffee makes his chest feel _too_ warm and then pays for the coffees without even giving Keith the chance to try and contribute, he chuckles as he places a hand at the middle of Keith’s shoulder blades, leading him over to a spot where they can stand and wait for their drinks. “I said I’d pay for it,” Shiro reminds him. “Well, at least we’ve established that I’m not good with describing myself in a believable manner,” he says, changing the subject back to the matter at hand.

“With a word count limit, yes,” Keith reminds him, patting Shiro’s shoulder as if to comfort him.

He laughs and Keith barely remembers to breathe as he retracts his hand. “Yes. So I need to condense my descriptions. Anything else you can recommend, oh Master of Dating Apps?” Shiro asks with a grin broadening upon is face.

“Pick a more recent photo, a nice one,” Keith says, ignoring the teasing title Shiro has decided to give him and the grin. “Even if it’s a headshot from your work ID or something – _anything_ would be better than what you put.”

Shiro retracts a bit, biting his lip nervously. “I don’t know,” he says softly, “I’m not very photogenic.”

“That’s a big, fat lie and you know it,” Keith states confidently.

“I’m really not.”

Shiro’s instance to a lie makes Keith grumble and he pulls his phone out of his pocket – headphones still attached. Swiping up on the shortcut he opens the camera, quickly changes it from front facing mode and holds the phone up, Shiro’s stunned face filling the screen. “Smile,” he states firmly.

“W-what?”

“Smile,” he states again and the moment Shiro offers one, somehow perfect without even really trying, Keith takes a few photos in succession. Tapping to display the photos on his screen, he turns it in his hand to show Shiro. “See? This is perfect! How can’t you see that?”

Their order is called and Shiro put a lid on each one, sliding a straw into his own as Keith takes the lid off his coffee to add a few sachets of sugar before replacing the lid. Shiro chuckles softly as he watches Keith fiddle with his coffee and then finally comments; “You must be half blind to think that photo is perfect.”

Keith groans, sipping his coffee, “I want to throw this in your face right now,” he says even though he’s smiling like a child at Christmas.

“I mean, you can if you really want to,” Shiro offers, almost shoulder to shoulder as they leave the Starbucks. “Though I feel like you’d consider that a waste of perfectly good coffee.”

“You’re not wrong about that, at least.”  Keith agrees, but finally lets the subject drop… for now. “So, I have another…” he glances at his phone, “hour ‘n’ a half before my flight boards. Wanna wander through Duty Free and pretend we wanna buy everything?”

Shiro scoffs, grinning. “That sounds like a delightful way to waste time.”

“One of many ways,” Keith says, winking suggestively as he walks ahead, not needing to see Shiro’s face to know the older man was flushed with jaw hanging open in shock.

 _That’s right,_ Keith wishes he could say, _I’m flirting with you._

Instead he just keeps walking and then turns on his heel to walk backwards, raising expectant eyebrows at Shiro who is still standing stunned to the spot. “Come on!” Keith calls.

When Shiro finally follows, Keith nudges him with his elbow and revels in the way his heart beats deep in his chest. There was no point in ignoring it, Shiro is attractive and Keith, well, he found himself smitten without Shiro even trying.

They sip at their coffees as they stroll through the large Duty Free section of the airport, the expensive alcohol and jewellery stores practically a playground as they explore the shelves upon shelves of items usually ridiculously taxed now affordable enough that Keith almost buys a few things. But, he doesn’t. He knows better than to think his savings account would survive such a lack of self-control, needing enough for the duration of his trip and for the week after, once he receives pay for hours worked.

He hates being a casual employee with a burning passion.

If his parents weren’t paying for his tickets he wouldn’t be able to visit, which is why, he supposes, they insist on paying his way. They want to see him as much as he wants to see them and Keith wishes he could invite them to visit him someday. His tiny little studio apartment though? Way too small. And he wouldn’t have them staying at a hotel either.

“Keith!”

The world pulls back into focus and Keith faces Shiro with confusion and a very undignified “huh?”.

Shiro laughs, patting Keith’s back. “Welcome back,” he says with mirth in his eyes. “I asked where your flight is headed for. I realised you asked me but I never asked you.”

“O-oh. Texas. I land in Houston and then my parents will pick me up to drive me home,” Keith explains, smiling a little at the very thought. “I can’t wait to see them.”

“That definitely sounds like a better trip than mine,” Shiro comments, his smile just as wide as Keith’s as he turns to pick up a bottle of wine and turning it over to read the contents label. “I’d love to visit my family again someday,” he laments, “how far out of Houston do they live?”

“A few hours,” Keith replies. “They have a few hundred acres where they rescue injured and unwanted horses. Dad’s also a firefighter who volunteers whenever he’s needed – he spends a lot of time in California in the summer months,” he says with a knowing smile that Shiro returns. “But when he knows I’m coming home he takes himself off the call list. I’m… not home much. I figure you know what that’s like.”

Shiro is nodding as he replies. “I understand completely.”

“Where are your family?”

“Japan,” Shiro replies. “My grandparents and my uncle’s family all live in the countryside. They used to run a farm until my grandparents grew too old to care for it. Nowadays they’re just living the slow life while my uncle and his wife teach at the local school,” he chuckles, “all twenty children.”

Before Keith knows it they’re sharing stories about their lives, random little moments to larger events, Shiro even briefly mentions the childhood illness that robbed him of his arm and the accident that claimed his parents when he was in college. Keith tries to combat it with uplifting tales of his years failing to ride horses until he finally learned how to maintain balance and the many times he fell face first in mud and literal horseshit.

“I’m telling you, Shiro,” Keith says, twisted in the uncomfortable waiting chair again, near his gate as the boarding time draws near, “you never forget the smell of horseshit once it’s imbedded in your nostrils.”

Shiro is stifling laughter, hand firm over his mouth, legs crossing as if doing so with prevent him from laughing louder. “That’s disgusting,” he manages to say before Keith imitates the braying of a horse and Shiro damn near almost snorts as he tries to hold in his laughter again.

The announcement tone plays over their heads and Keith pauses a moment to listen and finds himself wishing his flight hadn’t just been called. “T-that’s my flight…” Keith mutters, running a hand through his hair, “I don’t think I’ve ever felt disappointed at my flight being called before.”

A hand lands on his shoulder and Keith tries to smile as Shiro gently massages it in comfort. “At least it was fun while it lasted, right? Better than scrolling through some dating app,” Shiro offers.

Keith wants to laugh but it comes out as a strangled kind of sound and begins to check all of his belongings are there, not in any hurry to join the line that’s fast growing from his gate.

“You gonna get in line or…?” Shiro asks, almost hiding the fact he sounds reluctant as well.

“Nah,” Keith replies. “There’s plenty of time and I may as well stay here for a bit.”

“Aw, you’re not just trying to make me feel like you actually want to spend time with me, are you? You don’t have to pretend you know?” Shiro teases and Keith nudges him a little rougher than he intended, not that Shiro reacts any differently. “Seriously though, I’m glad I could pass the time with you, Keith. Even if you rejected me before we even met.”

Keith groans, rubbing hands over his face. “I can’t believe you brought that up!”

“I have to. First impressions are very important,” Shiro says.

“Eh, I don’t know about that,” Keith says quietly. He notes Shiro’s questioning glance and chuckles a bit, rubbing the back of his neck. “Mum says that first impressions can be deceiving; it’s the second impression that makes all the difference.”

“That’s… really good advice,” Shiro comments.

Keith finds himself staring, fixated on the warmth of Shiro’s grey eyes, wondering what his own gaze is saying to Shiro. “Yeah,” he mutters, barely knowing what he’s replying to, but not really caring.

“You should get on your flight,” Shiro says, his words steeped in regrets, “before it leaves without you.”

“Y-yeah…” Keith says, standing briskly, knowing if he doesn’t leave now he’ll do something drastic. Like miss his flight on purpose. He takes a few steps away and then pauses, shaking his head as he turns back again, holding his hand out to Shiro. A few moments of Shiro frowning at him in confusion, he reaches out and takes the offered hand, shaking it uncertainly. Keith laughs. “No, gimmie your phone, you dork,” he manages, wishing he could imprint the memory of Shiro’s hand in his as the man slips his hand out with an “oh!” and rummages into his coat pocket for his phone. Keith admires it for a second, noting that it’s an older model but in good condition as he quickly types in his number and sends himself a text. He returns the phone to Shiro’s hand and swallows thickly, the final call for his flight ringing above his head.

No pressure.

“I-I’ll text you, or something,” Keith promises. “Have fun in L.A.”

“Have fun seeing your parents,” Shiro replies, smile broad and downright blinding.

Keith’s lips press together and he quickly turns tail and almost sprints to the gate, handing over his boarding pass, cheeks flushing read as the attendant gives him a knowing smile.

Before he passes through the gate, Keith chances a glance back and almost regrets it. Shiro is still smiling as he waves and he waves back meekly.

When he reaches his seat – an aisle one, mercifully – Keith suddenly realises he forgot to tell Shiro something and whips out his phone, quickly opening the text he’d sent to himself to quickly type out a message.

‘ _For the record, I was completely wrong about you. Your second impression definitely made all the difference. Also, my name is Keith.’_

Too nervous to see what he might reply with, Keith puts his phone straight onto airplane mode.

 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------

 

It’s three weeks later when Keith walks back into the familiar airport, exhausted but glad to be home, he strolls through the crowds with his knapsack over his shoulder, glad he doesn’t have to wait around at baggage claim – a wait that takes way too long in his opinion.

He’s just passed through security when he sees the familiar head of silvery hair, a smile beaming across his lips as he weaves through the crowd towards him – then sprints when their eyes meet. He’s unashamed as he briefly takes in the stares around them, just barely avoiding a person who crosses his path, dropping his bag moments from leaping into Shiro’s welcoming embrace.

They hadn’t held one another before, but for the last three weeks Keith has been imagining what an embrace from Shiro would feel like. His wildest fantasies didn’t even come close. “Shiro,” he breathes, huffing, gripping at the outer coat Shiro is wearing, “you really came.” They’d been talking and talking and talking each day since that fateful - and embarrassing – moment they’d met. Keith even had to explain to his parents what was going on because of how often his phone would vibrate or ring. Closer to his return home, Keith had joked that Shiro should pick him up at the airport “like old times” and Shiro had agreed so quickly he simply couldn’t take the joke back. But here he is, engulfed in the warmth of Shiro like he’s always belonged there.

“Of course, I did,” Shiro replies, hugging him tighter. He nuzzles at the hair on the side of Keith’s head and breathes in. “I’ve been waiting to hold you… I wouldn’t wait any longer.”

“Neither could I,” Keith admits, hiding his face in Shiro’s shoulder. “Buuuut… I think we should go because I feel like we’re gonna be on a viral video or something soon.”

Shiro laughs and slowly releases Keith, but holds him there, hands on his shoulders, sliding down his arms to his elbows, leaning to rest his forehead to Keith’s. And then he inches forward a little further and Keith, Keith can’t ignore it, angling his chin up a little, gaze flickering down to Shiro’s parted lips.

Well, he decides. If the video goes viral, it may as well have a worthwhile payoff.

Keith surges forward, breathing in Shiro’s gasp, the cheers around them drowning out to nothing while their mouths meet in a kiss filled with every ounce of longing they’ve felt since the moment they’d parted ways weeks earlier. Shiro’s hands find their way to Keith’s waist as he reaches to wrap his arms securely around Shiro’s broad shoulders, the fingers of one hand pressing into the buzzed short hair at the back of Shiro’s neck.

When the kiss breaks, all too soon, Shiro stares at Keith, thumbs rubbing at his sides. Anyone can see the adoration there and Keith flushes brightly at the stare, pushing Shiro a little in the chest. They’re in the middle of a growing crowd now, but Shiro pays the audience no mind and does nothing more than taking one of Keith’s hands in his own and reaching down to pick up his knapsack, slinging it over one shoulder. “Why don’t I get you home?” Shiro suggests as he walks Keith out of the crowd and towards the exit. “You must be exhausted.”

Keith leans his head against Shiro’s shoulder as he nods, his other hand gripping at Shiro’s bicep. “I am,” he says, teasingly dramatic in his tone. Keith pouts as he angles his eyes up at Shiro. “Please look after me, Shiro.”

A sigh and Shiro brings Keith’s hand up to his lips, meeting Keith’s gaze as he kisses the middle knuckle. “You’re a menace to my heart, Keith, you know that?”

“I aim to please,” Keith replies with a grin.

 

\----------------------------------

 

Thank you so much for reading! Please do tell me what you think! I'm hoping to maybe write/finish some more Sheith fics in the future so I'm hoping this format at least kind of works! Thanks again! Come visit me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/hylianabsolite) if you want :)

(for the record I'm Australian so I don't know a heck of a lot about every day American things like pay and such so I just drew on my own experiences in that department even if I kept it brief for that reason ^^)


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